Trails in our Hearts
by Purple Pizza Turtle
Summary: Link took his last breath on the fiery Hylian fields against Ganondorf. Three years later, dark forces are rising, and the Library, a mysterious organization, has brought Link back to life to combat evil once more. Yet war is on the horizon, and with the Magician's reappearance, it may be too late for the hero to save the ones he loves.


**~The Hero~**

Lincoln ran two fingers across the sword's flat side. "Well?" the swordsman asked, his arms crossed with a slight grin on his face.

"Beautiful," Lincoln said. "Absolutely beautiful."

It was so much more than Lincoln expected... The steel was reforged using silver so pure that it glowed in a bluish hue under the moonlight and it fitted tightly to the hilt, and the hilt itself was crested with small carvings of wolves spinning in an endless circle that never began or ended, and, and—

Lincoln only stopped staring at it when he realized that Rusl's smile was growing wider with each moment that they spent on either side of the blade. "This must have cost you a fortune."

"I don't remember buying you a birthday present for the last three years, so consider this my own apology," Rusl said. "And it's really not a burden on the village because I may have haggled with the merchant a fair bit over this." There was a distinct crinkle around Rusl's nose.

He had spent enough time in Ordon to know everything there was about everybody. Not only was Fado one of the only villagers able to read (he once told Lincoln that a Northern priest had taught him many years ago), but he was also an aspiring poet that would always deny it in public. Beth had always dreamed of living in the Capital, and was never afraid to tell people as much. Shy, timid Colin aspired to be everything Lincoln—the old Link, anyway—was. And ever since Rusl's hair started to grey, crinkles would form around the swordsman's nose whenever he would lie.

Lincoln stomach turned at the prospect. Ordon's exports almost exclusively consisted of pumpkins, which were notorious for failing to grow if winters arrived too early or left too late. The money Rusl spent on this sword could have been used to pay for a failed harvest instead. Now Lincoln felt like even more of a monster. "Is it possible for you to return this sword for its full value?"

Rusl raised a brow. "Now why would I do that, hmm?"

"Because I likely will never see you again after today." Rusl already knew as much. The Magician knew that Lincoln was searching for him, and it would be easier for both of them if nobody else would be involved.

"Everybody in this village who knows how to fight is either too old for it or far away. The sword is yours, Link."

Lincoln's eyes thinned. "My name is Lincoln. Link died three years ago."

Lincoln could never return to his old life. He had been gone for three years, and so much had happened that he missed out on. Colin went to the Capital to become a soldier in the army, Malo was now one of the richest merchants in the West, and Nabooru had quelled any harsh sentiments in the East, and assumed her post as the leader the Gerudo truly needed. And Link was never a part of any of that. Instead, he resolved to kill those that had wronged him—and his kingdom—before he would find peace, cradled in the arms of the Goddesses.

And so he returned to the birthplace and deathbed of heroes: the Temple of Time. The pedestal which once held the Master Sword was still there, untouched by anything except Farore's care. Three years ago, he held the hilt of the sword and pulled upward, and now he put the sword back to where it belonged. That was his own way of assuring that there was no going back.

He needed a new sword. Nobody had as good of an eye for those as Rusl. The swordsman just looked Lincoln in the eyes, the only sound being the running water passing under the cobblestone bridge.

"Lincoln. Ah, right. It's just that I once had a son named Lincoln—"

"I'm sorry I wasn't your son," Lincoln plainly stated. "But wherever he is now, I'm sure that he's a good person."

"I can only hope so at this point," Rusl said with a laugh. He nudged to the faintest light over the horizon. "Are you sure you don't want to meet a few of the adults still here? Hanch would love to see you again, and Fado could always use some extra help with the goats, and Ilia—"

His stomach churned whenever he heard her name. Morning would come soon enough, and Lincoln wondered if it was fine if he left now. "I should get going."

"Poor Ilia," Rusl said, as if he just ignored Lincoln's words. "She complained about you a fair amount when you were off fighting your battles. Said you hardly ever visited, and when you did, you would always leave far too soon. Colin was saying the same thing back when he lived in Kakariko. I'd imagine it was a common complaint among other people you knew as well."

Perhaps Link's greatest secret (when he was alive) was that he rarely enjoyed the company of others as much as he enjoyed having a blade in his hand, with his life on the line. He loved everybody around him, and he could only hope that they all knew that. Yet he never found the need to have long, winding conversations with _anybody_. A few words were ample for him. Anything more and he started to lose his concentration, and his hands started to fidget. His words would start to slur in a way that made himself red in the face.

Lincoln resolved to never have to deal with that again. Rusl was one of the only people who knew that Lincoln had come back to life, and only because needed him for guidance, to act as the father he never had.

Shad may be one of the Library's creatures, mysterious, always cryptic, but he was the one who revived him in the first place.

Telma never wanted to be a part of any of this, but she had no choice. She was the daughter of Hyrule's greatest enemy, and if anybody found out... She was innocent. That much was apparent. Lincoln would have to protect her.

Lincoln turned to leave. He heard Rusl mutter, "It must be difficult, no?"

"What must?"

His eyes shifted to meet Rusl's. "To be surrounded by everybody you've ever loved, all of them so happy, yet _you_ must feel so alone."

"I—I should get going."

"Then visit again soon, Hero."

It was only on his way to Farore's Hearth that he realized that Rusl and him really were the same, that this father-son relationship Lincoln had always imagined between them was ever-so-slightly more tangible: they both only had the best intentions for the people they cared for. He gripped the hilt of his sword once more and recalled Rusl's final words, _Then visit again soon, Hero_. Polarizing expressions of fire, with the passion to protect the ones you love, and ice, to distance yourself from everything you've ever known.

 _Snei._ That was the word for snow in Old Hylian. That was the word that strangers often called him by now, after seeing the colour of his hair. A shade whiter than white. The change in hair colour was the most visible effect of bringing somebody back to life, Shad had told him. They called that process "the Purification." Right atop of his head lied a constant reminder that he no longer belonged in this world, the world of the living and the world of broken promises. All he really had left was his harmonica, which he played into the night until he was tired enough to sleep.

* * *

He always felt a pang of guilt whenever he walked among the shadows through these narrow cobblestone streets. The moonlight above did little to help him find his way to Telma's with so many buildings overhead, but he'd been here so many times that he could probably find his way blindfolded.

He clutched onto the hilt of the sword that rested across his right hip. A gentle squeeze, to reaffirm that it's still there. The Capital was never safe, especially at night. With the dirty rags he wore and unkept hair, nobody could mistake him for a nobleman. He had no gold to offer anybody. But that might not exempt him from trouble.

It was times like this that he was glad for the Purification. It transformed his hair to a shade of white that matched the snow. That, along with the hooded cloak on his head, meant that nobody would recognize Link as anything more than a wanderer.

Another man walked across the street, going in the opposite direction. The man kept his icy eyes fixated on Lincoln, slowly approaching him. Lincoln could not be sure if he was armed or not, but he would not dare and gamble on _that_. _One step, two step._ He gripped the hilt tighter still until his knuckle turned sore. If this man would draw his own weapon, Lincoln would have only a moment to react, and a moment would be all he needed.

As the man left the shadows and moved toward the centre of the street, under the spotlight created by the overcast moonlight, Lincoln could make out his appearance far more clearly. A tall and lithe man adorned in a purple suit. Black hair neatly combed back. A smile so sharp that it could cut through butter. He was of the nobility. The same kind of man as Arios. Lincoln stopped in his tracks and held the dagger in his hand. The man crept closer.

"I don't want trouble," Lincoln finally said, breaking the silence between them. He kept watch over everything he could. Everything in his line of sight. Perhaps this man was just supposed to be a distraction, and a number of armed criminals would emerge from the shadows and attack in a frenzy. They'd stab at him more than enough times to make sure he's dead, and then scavenge his body for what it's worth—

 _No._

Lincoln would have sensed the presence of others nearby. That was one of the effects of the Purification. The man was certainly alone. And when he was close enough, the man finally chose to speak, and he said, "Leon, it's quite nice to see you again."

"Leon?" Lincoln blinked. Nobody had called him that for so long... "Where did you hear that name?"

The man was within arm's reach of Lincoln. He could feel the man laugh, and it only made Lincoln more uneasy. He had to look up slightly to make eye contact. "I've been looking for you for far too long. When I heard that you were back in Hyrule, I knew that I needed to see you. Please, accept my apologies," he said, and he slipped a hand into his suit, pulling out an envelope. An old thing, brown and antique. "And please, accept this as well. A token of my gratitude for everything you've done for this kingdom, and everything you've done for _me_."

Lincoln's eyes thinned. "Who are you?"

"An old friend."

That was his breaking point. He quickly grabbed the nobleman's suit by the torso area and held his sword to the man's throat. "I don't appreciate being threatened."

A swift kick against Lincoln's abdomen sent the warrior flying until he hit a crate by the side of the road. That was the only answer he needed. He lunged at the man with the dagger, and withdrew it so quickly that the man had no time to react when Lincoln lunged again. The second time should have hit his throat.

But it did not.

Lincoln charged again. The farmer boy Lincoln once was would have been paralyzed with fear to see somebody this quickly, just like when he'd been scared stiff when he saw Ganondorf for the first time. But not now. Not ever again. From that day on, he swore that he would always fight.

Another lunge. His breath drew heavier, but the nobleman was still just as light on his feet. He threw a punch in Lincoln's direction. It hit him in the jaw. He wanted to scream, to give up. But not now, and not ever again. He would always fight.

The man dodged every one of Lincoln's parleys without effort. When the opportunity presented itself, the man delivered another kick, this one just as fiercely. Zelda. Colin. Ilia. Rusl. Shad. Telma. Arios. The Magician. Ganondorf. Link would no longer have to run. Everything he could ever want was right there. The world went black, and Lincoln finally found the peace he was searching for.

* * *

And so he wanted to curse when he was woken up again.

"You awake now, boy?" A hand pressed his forehead and shook. Link grunted and mustered all of his strength to open an eye. Red hair. Tanned skin that so few had—the mixture between a Hylian and a Gerudo. Chairs everywhere. A wooden ceiling. "Ah, finally. You've been knocked out for _days_."

"T—Telma?" Lincoln asked, his voice raspy, and his throat sore.

He felt a glass being raised to his lips. "Hush, boy. Don't speak. Just drink instead."

He spat it out. "I'm _not_ drin—drinking wine, Telma. Water..."

"People come to the Capital _just_ to enjoy the wine I stock here. Next time I hear you complain about something nice I done for you, I'll—"

Lincoln grimaced and said, "Telma, I don't want this banter right now."

Telma seemed to accept that with a sigh. She handed a second glass to him. He gave it a quick taste. Water. He drank without restraint. What did Arios always say about wine? To be drunk on wine is disgraceful, but to be drunk on water is glorious? Lincoln could certainly affirm the validity of Arios's statement right now. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, sugar," Telma said. She was rightfully tough on him when he deserved it. "Mind explaining why you were out cold in the streets?"

He maintained eye contact. "I came back here, looking for you."

"And you got into a fight?"

He kept silent.

"Boy, why would you be traveling through these streets at night? Nobody would ever recognize you if you traveled in the day, I promise that." _She's looking at my hair_ , Lincoln realized. It had turned an angelic-kind-of-white. The Purification's doing.

He turned his head to the side and his eyes widened. At the other side of the room sat an ogre among men: dark skin, piercing brown eyes, long, wiry arms, and the unpleasant frown Lincoln was so used to. Ganondorf had the same white hair that Lincoln had, but it looked much more fitting with him because of his age. He had his head resting on one hand.

Lincoln forced a weak smile. "Ganondorf, are you here to finish me off?"

"I do not fight injured opponents, and you know that."

"Then why are you here?"

Ganondorf nudged to Telma and said, "I am here to visit my daughter. Might I ask the same?"

Telma glanced at Lincoln, and back to her father. "Father, can I ask you to leave the room for a second?" The Dark Lord did not say anything. He simply stood so tall that his head nearly hit the ceiling, and left, each footstep he made having an audible _thud_. "Sugar, I know you don't like the thought of it, but I really wanted to talk to him. He came to the Capital just this morning."

"He's a _criminal_ , Telma," Lincoln said, grunting as he tried to stand up. "He nearly destroyed Hyrule for what he believed in. There's nothing for dangerous than a madman with an idea. And if people find out that you're his daughter, and that he's alive..."

"I'm prepared to accept all of that, don't you worry." Telma crossed her arms. "I'm more worried about what _you_ intend to do to him."

Lincoln may have shifted his eyes away, but he wouldn't avert her concerns. "I would sooner bring him to justice alive, but I doubt he would ever agree to that. If he wants to fight until he dies, then so be it. But I promise we won't be fighting in your bar, Telma, or even in the Capital."

"Must the two of you remain so focused on killing each other?" Telma scoffed and muttered, "Men."

Lincoln's heart stopped for a moment. _The paper_. Link ran his fingers through his pockets. "Telma, I had a paper. Where is—"

Telma took out the envelope from a nearby desk. It had been opened up already. When Link grimaced after seeing that she had opened it, she said, "I wasn't even sure if you were going to wake up. What if you'd been poisoned, and this letter says what the cure is?"

"Fair enough." He would have done the same if their roles were reversed. "What does it say?"

She handed the letter to him. "Read it. You can do _that_ yourself."

He stared at it. Four words. "Shalle—"

"Honey, those l's may have been written weird, but they're definitely t's."

"Shattered drea—dreams of love?" He looked at her for a nod of approval and stared at it again. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Telma shrugged. "Hell if I know. You were the one who received this letter."

"A nobleman gave this to me. Said I was an old friend of his. Blond hair, blue eyes. You see him around?" Lincoln asked, glancing at her. A shook of her head accompanied the silence. "Then I suppose I should see Shad about that, or maybe Rusl. I really should be on my way now," he said, excusing himself from her gaze as he turned to the door.

"I'll keep an eye out for news about that Magician of yours," Telma muttered. Lincoln glanced over his shoulder and muttered his thanks, although he could not be sure if she heard.

Just outside, Ganondorf waited for him. "I'm tired of fighting you over these nuances, Hero."

Lincoln shut the door before Telma would notice them and said, "I won't stop until you're brought to justice."

"That is why these quabbles will never go anywhere. I can easily draw my own sword and kill you right here, and you could do the same. But we're both better than that. We follow some code of honour," Ganondorf said. He gripped Lincoln's left arm and placed his own bare hand beside Lincoln's. On the back of their hands were incantations of the Triforce, with a different piece glowing dimly for both of them. "Do you know what this means?"

"Let go," Lincoln growled. He tried to pull away, but he had lost most of his muscles after the Purification.

"We both possess pieces of the Triforce. Both of us are meant to be kings, to rule our people. I will claim sovereignty for the Gerudo people as their leader, and you will one day do the same for the humans. That much is destined," Ganondorf said, slouching slightly so that he could stare Lincoln in the eyes. "You shall be king in the west, and I shall be king in the east. Why must we work apart when we could fulfill our destiny together?"

Lincoln scoffed and said, "I'm not interested in ruling over anybody. Let Zelda and Arios do that."

Ganondorf let go of his arm, and Lincoln nearly fell back. "So be it. Regardless of your decision, I will be travelling east. I expect you to be there in a few months, as either a friend or a foe. Goodbye for now, Hero."

They walked in opposite directions without a fight. Telma would have been surprised to see _that_.

To be a king...

Lincoln imagined himself in Arios's place instead. The nobleman had the adoration of the masses, and that much was apparent everywhere he went, as people often talked about him being Hyrule's saviour. Arios was the one who drove the Master Sword through Ganondorf's heart when Link was on the fields, dying of his own wounds, with Zelda clutching him tightly.

Link loved Zelda, but it could not have ever worked in his favour. He was a simple farmboy, with nothing to his name. Arios was one of the kingdom's most powerful nobles, coming from a prestigious line of men who have done great things for Hyrule. Yet his heart broke all the same when he first learned that in the three years that Link was dead, Zelda had married Arios. Neither of them had wronged him, and battling alongside Arios only made the news bittersweet.

More than once, when he was secretly visiting Shad in the royal libraries, he felt the odd need to meet Arios and Zelda in the towers. But they could never know that he was alive; nobody could know about him and Ganondorf. _It must be hard, no? To be surrounded by everybody you've ever loved, all of them so happy, yet you must feel so alone._ Every Hylian would live without fear if Lincoln would bear the weight on his own shoulders, and that filled him with a strange sense of comfort that he could never identify. Nobody, not even Arios and Zelda, knew that Hyrule was on the brink of war yet again, and the only person stopping unprecedented bloodshed was a white-haired farmboy.

But first, that farmboy would have to see Shad, and find out who that blond-haired nobleman was.

* * *

 **Author's Notes,**

Cover image credited to terrasalamander on DeviantArt, with the work being titled "Link".

Glad you found this story interesting enough to read! I understand that my writing at times can be choppy and awkward, but that's why I'm practicing.

If you're confused, Link, Zelda, and Arios (an original character) were battling Ganondorf in order to save Hyrule. In a twist of fate, Link succumbed to his injuries and died, along with Ganondorf. Three years later, Ganondorf was revived by somebody through a process called the Purification, and Shad (who is part of a mysterious organization called the Library) revived Link in order to defeat Ganondorf. Link, realizing that he really has no place in this world any longer, abandons his old identity and dedicates his life to hunting Ganondorf, along with capturing the Magician, an enigmatic figure from his childhood.

This story is largely developed on the foundations of another one of my stories, _Silent Winds_ , which I have since discontinued because I was not happy with that story. _Silent Winds_ never felt like an authentic story; it was far too reliant on original characters for my taste, and the amount of exposition present in that story made it seem more like a history textbook in my eyes. _Trails in our Hearts_ is designed to be leaner and meaner, with a much larger focus on character interaction as opposed to worldbuilding. In _Silent Winds,_ I had no intentions of developing too many of the characters that much, but in _Trails in our Hearts_ , pretty much everybody has a notable backstory.

Like _Silent Winds,_ _Trails in our Hearts_ is featured in my own version of Hyrule, which has been split into four different regions (each based off the cardinal directions), and each has a different ethos associated with it, and to some extent, even people's names are restrictive to each region. I think that adds a fair amount of scale to this story. In addition, each region is based loosely off of real world places. This has largely been done to give the setting a larger degree of scale.


End file.
